


Beside Still Waters

by MG12CSI16



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Merlin/Arthur, Family Dynamics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1409935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MG12CSI16/pseuds/MG12CSI16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's strange, he thinks, being the one that holds Merlin up when it's normally the other way around./ Or, the one where Arthur has a promise to keep, Merlin struggles to keep himself afloat, and the knights are a lot more caring than even the King was aware. Prompt fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beside Still Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt number 10 by Kweandee over on Fanfiction.

He’s in the middle of a training session when Leon comes to tell him Hunith is in the city and any other time Arthur would greet the news with a smile. He supposes it’s the way his knight’s voice wavers slightly (something Arthur has heard from Leon only when the news is nearly too much to bear) that tells him it’s _not_ a joyous occasion and something he should fear.

Maybe that’s why, once he’s put down the sword he’s wielding and dismisses Mordred with a nod, he walks just a little quicker towards Gaius’ chambers.

Merlin is already there but Arthur expects that much. It’s his mother after all, the one person he’s supposed to love more than Arthur himself. He’s already psyched himself up, prepared to give whatever supportive speech he needs to, to return the favor Merlin has bestowed upon him countless times.  

Except, when he gets there, he finds he can’t think of a single thing to say.

Hunith is there, lying on the cot, eyes shut tight as sweat pools at her brow. Her face, pinched with pain, is nearly enough to send Arthur back through the door but he knows he could never do that to Merlin.

The man (right now he looks like no more than a boy) is at his mother’s side, trembling fingers pressing a cloth to her face. His eyes are red and Arthur squeezes his own shut, wishing he could will away the image of his lover in such a state.

He hears shuffling behind him, the sharp tang of herbs making his eyes water. Gaius appears, a bottle in his hand. Merlin looks up at him, hopeful, but Arthur sees the way the old man’s smile doesn’t meet his eyes and he knows. He knows it’s a gamble. The potion in his hands could kill just as much as it could heal, and Arthur prays to any god willing to listen to him that it will be the latter.

It’s a while before Arthur finally moves from his spot by the door, the sound of his armor making Merlin’s head shoot up. The protectiveness of his stance takes Arthur by surprise at first, and then he relaxes when he can see in Merlin’s eyes that he is no threat. In fact, Merlin welcomes his presence with a thankful sigh and immediately relaxes when the King squats down, his fingers tangling with the ones of Merlin’s free hand.

He squeezes a little tighter than normal.

“What’s wrong with her?”

Merlin sniffs, squeezes Arthur’s fingers back, but never takes his eyes off of his mother.

“I- Gaius isn’t sure. It’s nothing he’s ever seen before. It’s killing her though, that much I know.”

Arthur sighs, moving a bit closer.

“Now Merlin, you don’t know that for sure. Your mother is a very-“

“That’s the thing though Arthur. I do know, I can _feel_ it. I can feel the life draining from her. A little bit at a time.”

This time Arthur doesn’t respond right away. The tremble in Merlin’s voice, usually sharp and full of sarcastic insults or loving whispers, threatens to knock him over and for a second he forgets how to breathe.

When he finally finds his voice, he isn’t surprised when it cracks just slightly.

“Could you heal her? With magic?”

There’s some sort of sound that comes from Merlin then, something akin to a scoff, tinged with offended anger and Arthur curses himself. Of course Merlin had thought of that, it was the first thing that came to that beautifully disastrous mind, if Arthur knew his lover at all.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and when Merlin just shakes his head and buries his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck, he doesn’t have the heart to tell him his armor is now damp with salted tears.

He loses track of how long they sit like that but judging by the faintest hint of sunlight that’s coming through the tiny window on the far side of the room, it hasn’t been more than an hour. Hunith, still in her fever induced slumber, let’s out a whimper that has Merlin sitting up, pressing the cloth to her brow and gripping her hand once more.

He takes one look at Arthur and gives a pathetic attempt at a smile.

“You should go. The kingdom needs their King after all.”

Arthur opens his mouth to protest (Leon is perfectly capable of keeping things in order for a while) but Merlin beats him to it.

“We’ll be alright Arthur. I can send for you if I need you.”

It’s not a suggestion but an outright order and if it had come from _anyone_ other than Merlin, Arthur is almost certain he would have them flogged. Now though he rises, ignoring the cracking of his knees, and moves quietly towards the door.

He takes one last look at Merlin and pretends his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his chest as he goes.

* * *

Merlin spends the next week keeping up with his duties as well as spending every free moment at Hunith’s side. Arthur commends him silently, knowing he would never be able to do the same, but he never spends too much time in the physician’s chambers.

He’s not sure he can handle it (the thought makes Arthur hate himself a little more).

Hunith has only woken once since her arrival, her words slurred and lacking sense, before she slips into unconsciousness once more. Gaius tells them it’s from the fever, her mind fogged by the illness ravaging her body. Arthur can see Merlin’s shoulders slump a little more every day.

When he’s not at his mother’s side or performing his sorcerer duties, Merlin has his nose buried in countless books about magic and illness, desperate for a cure. Between he and Gaius there isn’t a book left that hasn’t been read cover to cover.

And still they come up empty handed.

Sometimes, when the guilt is a bit too much, Arthur comes by to visit and Gaius is mixing a draft that has Merlin looking a little more hopeful than the last time Arthur saw him. But still he can tell, with one look at the aged physician as he silently crushes herbs in a bowl, that the probability of recovery is slim.

He never says this out loud to Merlin. 

* * *

 

Sometime during the second week he stops by Gaius’ chambers on his way to the room he shares with Merlin and he can tell, by the simple shake of his sorcerer’s head when their eyes meet, that he’s going to bed alone again (he pretends he believes Merlin’s hollow promise that he’ll come to bed soon).

It’s only an hour later when he decides he can’t stand the silence or the empty left side of the bed. He pulls on his dressing gown over his bare torso, the smacking sound of his bare feet on the ground echoing through the castle’s halls as he navigates his way to the physician’s chambers. When Merlin sees him appear in the doorway Arthur can tell he’s prepared for an argument.

Unfortunately for him, so is Arthur.

“You need sleep,” the King announces, careful to keep his voice low as he makes his way into the room that’s aglow with candlelight.

At the statement Merlin glares at him, scoots a little closer to the cot and crosses his arms over his chest. Arthur just sighs.

“Please Merlin. You’re no use to her when you’re threatening to fall over from exhaustion.”

He can tell he’s making little progress; the way Merlin bites his lip with uncertainty and glances at his mother who looks no better than the last time Arthur was here. It’s then that it hits him and he slowly makes his way towards the cot, taking Merlin’s hand in his and pulling him up. He’s thankful when he doesn’t struggle.

“You sleep for a few hours and I will sit with her. If anything changes in the slightest bit, I will send for you. I promise.” He gives a sort of mock salute and nearly crumples with relief when Merlin cracks the tiniest smile and his shoulders slump in surrender.

“Fine, only a few hours though.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” 

When Merlin leaves the room and Arthur is alone with Hunith he has the strongest urge to call the younger man back. It’s not because he’s uncomfortable around her, (she adores him and the connection he feels with her is not unlike one found between a mother and son), but because seeing her like this and knowing deep down that the odds don’t seem to be falling in her favor makes him want to scream.

He’s not sure Gaius would appreciate that at such an ungodly hour of the morning anyways.

 Arthur makes himself as comfortable as he can in the rickety wooden chair beside the cot, still warm from the heat of Merlin’s body, and stares uncomfortably at Hunith, taking in her sweaty face and pained expression. Then, as gently as possible, he slips his hand in hers, holding it close like he saw Merlin do earlier.

The skin is surprisingly cold.

There’s a lump in his throat he can’t seem to swallow, his chest surprisingly heavy; as if he has to fight for breath. It’s been some time since he’s seen Hunith. After retaking Camelot and dealing with his father’s death (along with _finally_ doing something about the ‘thing’ between he and Merlin) neither he nor the newly appointed court sorcerer had any time to travel back to Ealdor.

It sends a spike of guilt through him, why though he isn’t sure. He’s the king after all, he has duties to perform, trainings to oversee, councils to attend. _Still,_ he tells himself _, you could have tried._

 With a quiet sigh Arthur settles further into his seat, his lids heavy. He wasn’t sure how Merlin had managed to stay awake this long, he felt ready to fall over any second and he’d only been here less than an hour. He was actually contemplating whether to rest his eyes or not when suddenly, the grip on his tightens just a bit and it sends his head snapping up as his eyes frantically sweep over Hunith.

He lets out a noise of surprise when he sees her blinking warily at him.

“Hunith,” he breathes, voice catching in his throat. He picks up the cloth Merlin had discarded earlier, dipping it in the bowl of now lukewarm water before pressing it to her brow.

She manages a small, weak smile.

“Thank you Arthur.” Her voice is hoarse, but still as warm as the day he first met her.

Involuntarily he responds with a whispered, “You’re very welcome,” before he pauses momentarily, biting on his lip until he tastes blood.

“Would you like me to fetch Merlin for you? He’s been waiting all day for you to wake and I’m sure he’ll-“

He’s surprised when her hand comes up, cupping his cheek, shushing him with a glance.

“Right now I think it’s best if it’s just you and I. If I know that boy at all, he hasn’t slept since I arrived.”

Arthur laughs, a real laugh that rumbles deep in his chest and pulls at the corners of his mouth. She really did know her son.

“I sent him to bed about an hour ago. Nearly dead on his feet, he was.”

Hunith’s smile ignites something deep in Arthur, a melancholic wave that endlessly washes over him, but as she speaks in her soft and worn voice, he feels it melt into shock.

“He’s lucky he has you, you know. Sometimes I think he’d still be the same little lost soul I sent away all those years ago if he hadn’t found you.”

“I don’t think-“

“He’s happier now. Granted he was always a happy boy, smiled all the time no matter what, but now that he’s met you it seems to be permanent.”

“Well, I am dashingly handsome.” He lets his teasing tone calm his shot nerves, relaxes just a bit more when Hunith smiles again.

“That you are…” she’s plagued by a fit of coughing and Arthur hands stumble to grab the glass of water on the table beside him. He tries to offer it to Hunith but she waves it away and grips his hand again, her grip vice like.

“I want you to promise me something Arthur. Can you do that for me?”

Although his brows knit together in confusion Arthur nods, covering her hand with his other. He feels it shaking beneath his calloused skin.

“I need you to look after Merlin for me, when I’m no longer around.”

“Hunith,” Arthur warns, “you mustn’t think like that. Between Gaius and Merlin I’m sure a cure will come.”

He’s not sure why but the way Hunith smiles at him makes his throat tighten, eyes burning with tears that mist over his cloudy blue orbs. It’s as if she knows, just like Merlin does.

“My dear boy, we both know that any cure that comes will be too late. Which is why I need your word you’ll watch over my son. He needs you just as much as you need him, even if neither of you realize it.”

Blinking away tears Arthur shakes his head viciously, his hair flopping against his forehead.

“I will, I promise.”

 His voice is cracked and strained and Arthur hates himself for it and when he sniffs and asks, “Do you really have to go?” he’s surprised when Hunith chuckles at him.

“Oh love, it’s my time. I’ve lived a nice life, I’ve raised a beautiful boy who has done wonderful things, and I even managed to find myself another along the way.” She cups his cheek again and he nuzzles into her touch. “Now, how many mothers can say they are that lucky?”

And that’s when Arthur breaks.

His body shakes with every sob that rips through him, his chest heaving as he draws in gasping breaths through parted lips. He feels Hunith’s fingers tangle in his hair as he buries his face in the mattress. The touch is comforting, but not enough to stop the outpour of emotion coming from the young King.

And when he finally looks up at her with red rimmed eyes, embarrassed and wiping at his nose, she simply smiles and closes her eyes again as sleep takes hold once more.

He loses track of how long he watches the rise and fall of her chest.

* * *

Merlin comes back sometime before dawn, his gentle hands smoothing back Arthur’s hair and causing him to jump slightly. When his eyes lock with Merlin’s though he relaxes, reading the unspoken words in Merlin’s gaze.

He rises from the chair and his muscles scream, his eyes sore from both crying and exhaustion. He presses the softest of kisses against Merlin’s cheek before he stumbles towards his chambers.

He’s practically asleep before his head hits the pillow.

* * *

Arthur wakes some hours later to a guttural wail and he knows before he even has the chance to open his eyes what’s happened.

The nausea washes over him without warning. He barely has time to find a bucket before he’s looking at his dinner for a second time.

* * *

He loses count of how many bowed heads he passes in the halls. Leon and Gwaine stand out to him, along with Percival and Mordred, and the rest are just blurs. They don’t matter right now, nothing did except for Merlin.

_God, Merlin._

Arthur nearly chokes when he sees him, thrown over the cot, Hunith’s body still beneath his. Wordlessly Arthur goes to him, pushes away Gaius’ hands and warning words and wedges himself in the chair behind Merlin, pressing his face into his shoulder and murmuring words he knows means nothing.

Still, he says them anyways.

“Oh Merlin, it’s ok. I promise it’s going to be ok.”

Arthur’s not sure why but they taste like lies, bitter on his tongue.

* * *

The castle is eerily quiet after that. The maids weep for the young man who’s always so kind to them and the knights bow their heads in grief once more. Many knew Hunith from the time Ealdor took in Camelot’s knights when the war with Morgana drove them out.

Arthur leaves sometime before midday and Merlin says nothing when his body finally pulls away from his own. His shirt is damp where Arthur had cried with him, his eyes burn from the countless hours he’s spent awake and the many more he’s spent crying.

He doesn’t even move when he hears a shaking voice say I love you from the other side of the room.

Arthur doesn’t know what’s so special about the lake, the one Merlin insists on taking his mother to. All he knows is that as soon as the words leave the warlock’s lips (“I am taking her there with or without you Arthur, it’s your choice whether you come or not), he gathers a few things and goes to get the horses ready but when he gets to the stables he finds his knights, eyes sad, waiting.

The horses are saddled and ready and Leon steps forward with two sets of reins in his hands, giving them to Arthur silently.

“We’re ready when Merlin is, My Lord.”

Arthur crinkles his brow at that and he can see it, the raw emotion playing out on each of these _warriors’_ faces as if it was their own mother. They smile gently at him and he’s surprised when it’s Gwaine who speaks up, voice soft and nearly unrecognizable.

“We would like to join you and young Merlin on this trip. We’d like to pay our respects to Hunith and be there for Merlin as well.”

For a fraction of a second Arthur contemplates saying no. He’s not even sure Merlin would want them there but then he tells himself how utterly ridiculous that thought is. This is Merlin after all and he loves every one of these men in a way Arthur would never understand, respects them, in a way that’s completely different from the way he does. Having them at his side would probably do nothing but help Merlin keep the remainder of his sanity.

So of course he says yes.

* * *

The ride is silent, save for the sound of the horses’ steps. Merlin hasn’t spoken since they left the castle, riding silently beside Arthur. During the first few moments of the trip Arthur had leaned over and asked him if he wanted him to send the others back but Merlin simply shook his head.

“I want them there.”

Arthur didn’t ask again.

They dismount a few feet from the river’s edge and Arthur can’t seem to suppress the chill that runs through him. He’s heard the stories from Merlin, right after his magic was revealed to Arthur and the kingdom, of how he’d sent countless bodies out onto the water before the flames consumed them and the thought of so many lives ending here makes Arthur weary.

He turns away from the water and watches Merlin fill the little wooden boat that was already there with a soft bed of grass and flowers, the sweet scent overpowering him. Percival helps Merlin gently place Hunith’s still body in the boat, her eyes shut.

If Arthur just glances, it appears she’s only sleeping.

Merlin is the one who pushes the boat into the water and when it simply idles on the still surface he raises a shaking hand, a rush of words Arthur will never hope to understand leaving his lips. Then his eyes, normally blue and bright and _happy,_ turn the darkest shade of gold Arthur has ever seen.

Then the wind picks up.

It blows the boat towards the middle of the lake, slowly, as if handling it with great care. Then, once the wind ceases and the boat continues to float on, Merlin raises his hand once more and utters a single word.

The flames are nearly too much for Arthur to bear.

* * *

They sit at the water’s edge for hours, Merlin weeps some more and Arthur is never far from him. The knights all stay silent but they don’t seem uncomfortable, sometimes one of them will glance at Merlin and catch his gaze and when they smile the raven haired man simply nods.

The gratefulness that shines in his eyes is louder than anything he could have said.

When the sun barely hovers above the horizon, a mural of orange and red, Arthur decides it’s time he gets his knights back to Camelot. They all seem uncertain when Merlin doesn’t move and Arthur feels panic settle in his gut like a rock.

He bends down, lips brushing Merlin’s ear, nearly too afraid to speak.

“If you want to stay here a while longer I can send the men ahead. I could sit with you if you’d like.”

At first he thinks Merlin hasn’t heard him. His body is too still, eyes too focused on the now nonexistent flames and the charred little boat on the other side of the lake. Arthur opens his mouth to speak again but he stops when Merlin turns towards him, dismissing the offer with a tiny shake of his head.

“No, it’s alright. I think it’s time we all went home.”

Arthur helps Merlin to his feet before they silently mount their horses and begin towards the city.

* * *

When they reach the castle and the knights are all moving towards their chambers Merlin stops them with a simple “thank you all,” and they all turn so quickly Arthur swears he hears their necks crack, eyes trained on Merlin.

He looks exhausted and his eyes are sunken. His legs are ready to give out and his chest is so tight it hurts to breath and yet, he still finds it in him to smile at them. Then they come forward, a sea of red and warm eyes, and embrace him.

Arthur pretends the sight of it doesn’t make his heart beat erratically in his chest.

* * *

Arthur goes straight to his chambers after Merlin’s exchange with the knights. He vaguely hears the warlock mumble something about getting a sleeping draught from Gaius but he doesn’t bother to follow him to his old chambers. He doesn’t think it will make much difference anyways.

He’s in the middle of changing into his night shirt when Merlin finally comes in, the door shutting softly behind him. His eyes are blank, lips pressed into a fine line. Arthur holds his breath as Merlin moves towards him, prepared for a bought of tears or a fit of screaming. Whatever Merlin needed.

He is not, however, prepared for the kiss Merlin roughly presses against his lips, fingers tangling in Arthur’s hair and tugging desperately. Arthur’s first instinct is to retaliate, kiss back just as hard (he always gave as good as he got) but the events of the last few days are weighing heavily on his mind and he finds the only thing he can do is pull away.

 “ _Mer_ lin, I really don’t think right now is the best time. You’re upset and you’re confused and…I can’t do it while you’re like this. It isn’t fair.”

He dares to look up at Merlin now, but he does anyway and the look on Merlin’s face is nearly enough to kill him.

The sorcerer moves forward again, finger tips digging into Arthur’s hip and pulling him closer. He presses his forehead against Arthur’s, lips ghosting across his.

“Please Arthur…I need you, _please.”_

* * *

They make love long into the night and when Merlin cries Arthur doesn’t worry. He simply wipes away the tears with the pad of his thumb and runs his hands over Merlin’s body, kisses every tender spot he knows. It’s the gentlest they’ve ever been; Arthur feels like he’s handling glass and not one of the world’s most powerful sorcerers.

When they’re done they lay in a sweaty pile of limbs, the only sound in the dark bedroom is their breathing and Arthur finds it strangely comforting. Merlin’s head is on his chest and his fingers run through the raven locks lazily. The conversation with Hunith is weighing heavily on his mind, even more so now that she’s gone and the promise he made tickles the tip of his tongue, makes his stomach turn with uneasiness.

He glances down at Merlin and sighs.

“Are you still awake?”

A quiet “Mhm,” is his only answer but Arthur supposes it’s better than nothing. He shifts slightly under Merlin, his fingers moving from his hair to his exposed back where they busy themselves tracing patterns against the skin.

“You know I’ll always protect you, don’t you? And that I will love you until the end of time?”

At the question he feels Merlin roll over, propping himself up on his elbow. Arthur can barely make out his face in the dark but he knows there’s confusion painted on it. He probably sounds ridiculous.

“Where is this coming from Arthur?” Merlin finally asks.

A sound that nearly resembles a growl emanates from Arthur’s chest and he looks pointedly at Merlin, even though he’s sure the younger man can’t even tell.

“Just…tell me Merlin. You _know_ those things don’t you?”

This time Merlin sighs and shakes his head, the slightly annoyed tone he holds making Arthur smile.

“Of course I do, you clotpole.”

And that’s all Arthur needs to hear.


End file.
